


The Story of Us

by LexieCarver



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff and sass, Horror movie references, Writer insert :D, scavenger hunt, trivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 21:15:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10772556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexieCarver/pseuds/LexieCarver
Summary: Pairing: Crowley x Me (Lexie) *waves*Characters: Crowley, Me, Sam, Dean, my hellhound, Remy, my bestieWord Count: 6,268 (Yikes!)Beta: @raspberrymamaA/N: This was written for @mrswhozeewhatsis‘s This is Not An April Fool’s Writing Challenge.I know you are all going to think I’m lying but I really am this amazing. :D I’m good at acting and amazing at puzzles and solving things so this is accurate if the story line were like this and these characters really existed. :) Fluff and sass ahead with fun tidbits about yours truly. Enjoy.





	The Story of Us

[Also posted on Tumblr-](http://roxy-davenport.tumblr.com/post/160159770071/the-story-of-us)

 

This is my story. The long, winding story of how I got the chance to live in the beloved tv show, Supernatural. Bear with me dear readers, this is a tad long but I assure you, my story is a fun one.

 

 

I never was one for early mornings, especially after staying up most of the night to watch horror movies. Friday night seemed as good as any other night to stay up late being scared, watching creepy ghosts and psychotic people run around causing mayhem. It always took a long time to set up the movies. Finding good horror movies from Hulu and Netflix was a feat in and of itself. I could literally spend two hours just looking. Most of the horror they had was horrible, B-rated at best.

 

 

You can imagine, dear reader, how not cool waking up at nine was after a horror movie marathon. If I had my way, things would start at noon so I can’t tell you how upset I was that someone was ringing my doorbell at 9am. I groaned, sporting a nice headache and yelled at the front door hoping that they would take the hint and leave but the knocking just grew more insistent. I knew my neighbors would have something to say about all the noise. I tried to calm down my hellhound, Remy otherwise known as a dog but he was going crazy, barking his little head off. Growling I turned off the ambient sound of, “Riding in the Impala” that was playing on my android phone. Phone in hand I checked on Tumblr to see what was up. I queued half of the day the night before but I just couldn’t stop myself from checking to see who liked what and if anyone had any comments or questions. I just love starting a convo with my followers. Eyes still on my phone, I walked up to the door, laughing when I found a funny meme. I took my eyes off my phone to look through the peephole. Stupid warped peephole. All I could see was a blur of hair. Not very helpful.

 

 

I glared at the door, hands on my hips, sassy as fuck.

 

 

“Whoever you are. I haven’t had my coffee and I don’t do early morning. Who are you?” I resisted the urge to curse at them. Nothing good would come of saying, ”Who the fuck are you?” at 9 am to strangers. There was a pause and I could hear a snort on the other end. I had no patience. Five minutes in a Starbucks line and I’m already thinking of ways to kill everyone before me. The longer the strangers took, the more frustrated I got. Until finally one of them said, “FBI, ma’am.”

 

 

The pause was what worried me. The FBI and the Cops wouldn’t wait to inform you of who they were. I should have been creeped out honestly but I wasn’t. It was strange but somehow I recognized that voice. I stared intently at the door like it had the answer I was looking for. Then there was muttering but I couldn’t hear what was said.

 

 

Sam was motioning to their clothes but Dean waved him off. “We’re plain-clothed FBI agents, undercover,” he whisper yelled at Sam. Sam resisted the urge to eye-roll.

 

 

I shook off the familiar feeling, intent to suss them out. “FBI? Here?” Now that was weird. I was a writer, minding my own business, doing my own thing. I didn’t do anything to alert the FBI to myself. I write horror, I don’t live it. The familiarity kept gnawing on me. My brain cycled through like a computer throwing out possible reasons; friends, school, weddings, parties, etc. It was hard to think about anything else. I needed to know the answer. I scowled trying to think harder.

 

 

“Lexie, thank God you’re home. We need your help,” one of them said.

 

 

I froze. They knew my name? Wtf! That can’t be good. That placed me at a huge disadvantage. But I had to play it cool. No sense in showing them my discomfort. I plastered on a smirk not that they could see my face and dropped my voice an octave trying to sound like a 1920’s starlet: all charm and sass. “Do you now? Little old me? Hmm? Pass me your ID’s boys. I’m not letting anyone in until I check you out.” It wasn’t a question, this was an order.

 

 

“Of course. Good thinking ma’am,” the one on the left added.

 

 

I slowly walked over to the door and bent down reaching for the FBI badges. I saw the shadows on the ground under the door showing me where they must be standing. I grabbed the badges hurriedly and glanced down at them.

 

 

“Classic rock last names?” Hmm that’s familiar.

 

 

“Yeah, our parents were obsessed with classic rock names?”

 

 

“You’re brothers with,” I looked down again to be sure, “Different last names?”

 

 

There was silence on the other end. My brain worked overtime now. I could feel the answer on the tip of my tongue.

 

 

“What’s your boss’s number?” I inquired of the two strangers.

 

 

One of the “FBI agents” slid a small buisness card under the door.

 

 

I dialed the number hurriedly, the answer so close.

 

 

“Hello?”

 

 

“Hello? Is this regarding my agents?”

 

 

OMG I knew that voice. I watched the show, multiple times mind you. The classic rock names, brothers and this voice - it was Supernatural. “What the hell was going on?! Garth?” I asked incredulously.

 

 

There was silence on the phone. “You are Garth aren’t you?“ I half yelled, half pleaded. I flung open the door to find a very good Dean and Sam lookalike. “FBI really? In plaid? Did the con come early this year? And Garth is your boss? Please!” I said in mock annoyance; really I was closer to excited because I mean what if they’re really here, right? The characters in our world. Oh my god, awesome!

 

 

Garth said something through the phone but I already took my phone away from my ear so I could watch the two men in front of me. Remy was barking like crazy, clearly skeptical of these men. The boys exchanged looks that seemed to hold an entire conversation. How does one communicate silently like that? Now that’s a skill. Sam was the first to speak up.

 

 

“Um...Why do you think that’s Garth? Whose Garth?” he asked with a curiously confused tone.

 

 

I gave him an unamused face adjacent to bitchface. “Wow. Know when to end the con boys. I know you’re not FBI. What are Jared and Jensen doing on my doorstep? And why do you need my help? Holy shit!”

 

 

“Oh please. We’re not those…We have real names.”

 

 

I raised my eyebrows for them to continue. “And they are?”

 

 

“We’re really Sam and Dean Winchester.” Dean raised his arms triumphantly.

 

 

I looked from Sam to Dean talking in their expressions and their clothes and shrugging. “So you wouldn’t mind if I asked you a few questions.”

 

 

Sam and Dean shared another silent communication that I was not privy to so I just kept it moving. I had to find out if they were really the Winchesters. Who knew SPN trivia could pay off?

 

 

“Where was John Winchester born?”

 

 

Dean rolled his eyes, “Normal, Illinois.”

 

 

“When did Mary die?”

 

 

“1983,” Dean added.

 

 

“What was Adam Milligan’s mother’s name?”

 

 

“Kate Milligan,” Sam replied.

 

 

“What was John Winchester’s email?”

 

 

“jwinchester1246@gmail.com.”

 

 

“The key to the bunker was kept in a box with what symbol on it?”

 

 

“The Aquarian star, “ Dean added

 

 

“You’re either good fakes or really the boys. One last question.”

 

 

“Dean, what caused you to get sent to a boy’s home?”

 

 

“I stole food. We good now, sweetheart?”

 

 

I looked him up and down.

 

 

“You may be hot Dean Winchester but I do have a name. I suggest you use it.”

 

 

“Well look at you. Feisty.”

 

 

“And beyond your charms.”

 

 

“I got my eyes on a King.”

 

 

I saw a shadow emerge from the other side of the door. The second that I saw it was Crowley, my eyes went wide, my mouth hung open. How embarrassing. I go all fangirl on the King of Hell, not being able to say anything. I mean what is there to say? I freaking love you, make me your Queen and fuck me so hard i can’t remember my name tomorrow? That leaves a certain je ne sais quoi. So I just smiled awkwardly and attempted to get words out. I went from sassy to dorky in 5 seconds.

 

 

“Y-you’re rrreaaaly Crowley?”

 

 

Crowley smirked, looking me up and down.

 

 

“In the flesh, Pet,” he said with a flourish.

 

 

I smiled a goofy smile and licked my lips. My eyes running down his figure to his clothed cock. Three extra inches. It looked impossibly hard - so tantalizing.

 

 

“Fuck me.” I meant oh fuck me as an expression of frustrated excitement not literally. Sadly my brain was thinking slower than my mouth.

 

 

Crowley looked amused at my statement, “If you’d like and I think you would. I’m quite the gentleman,” Crowley said with a smile, pleased that he had such an effect over me in the short time he was here.

 

 

I gave a giggle and bit my lip looking up at him. He smirked down at me knowingly. Crowley walked forward and whispered into my ear, his hot breath fanning over my sensitive skin. “I’m really Crowley, love. Nice to meet a fan and one that’s so gorgeous and willing right off the bat. Three extra inches and I do know how to use all of it. “

 

 

“I’m sure you do.”

 

 

“Am I on those pajamas?”

 

 

I looked down becoming a bit more self-conscious. Crap. I didn’t change. Pajamas right with Crowley on them. My tank top is an advertisement for the Crowley’s Crossroads Inn and my pants say, “I sold my soul to Crowley.” Crowley smirked upon seeing that while I simply shrugged, definitely suggesting something.

 

 

Dean frowned looking between me and Crowley angrily.

 

 

“You like the KING of freaking Hell! What the fuck Lexie!”

 

 

I whirled around angry at him for ruining my moment with Crowley. “This coming from the I-dont-do-relationships type or Mister Broody over there?” I rolled my eyes at them. “Get the fuck in here. I assume badgering me over liking bad guys isn’t the reason you’re all here.”

 

 

“Feisty isn’t she?” Crowley commented as I closed the door. I turned toward Crowley, “I assume it’s a mission, a hunt, whatever. My dog has problems calming down, he’s a big ball of energy. Can you poof me into my bestie’s house so I can give Remy to her? He’s very boisterous but he always calms down with her there.” I held up my hand not even letting Dean interject. Crowley beamed at me, waiting for me to pick up the overactive fluffball that was trying to nibble Crowley’s fingers. How cute.

 

 

My bestie was speechless as I stood in front of her with Crowley. Of all the ways he could prove he was Crowley, he made me wear ripped jeans, sneakers, and a lace top instead of my Crowley pajamas.

 

 

“So this precious little human writes about me including smutty fanfics? Lexie dear, you just get more intriguing by the minute. And you love, roleplay as my mother? You look too nice to be my mother. Interesting choice. Thought I must say I’m a tad confused on why one would choose her but If you’re Lexie’s bestie, I suppose you’re my friend, mother or not,” he said with an eye roll.

 

 

My bestie smiled mouthing, “This is awesome” to me.

 

 

Crowley glanced down at my wrist pointing to a strange symbol that just showed up on my wrist as well as his. While I was researching, my bestie showed him my masterlist and all my Crowley related posts. He chuckled darkly at the names of the titles itching to read them all by the end of the day.

 

 

“It means we’re soulmates,” I interjected. Crowley looked intrigued by the prospect. He looked down at his watch and frowned.

 

 

I laughed and handed Remy to her. I fed Remy and showed her how to walk him on a leash. We talked a bit more, all the while Crowley reminded me that whatever it was that I was needed for, there was a time limit. He generously gave me thirty minutes where we talked non-stop. Visiting with her always made me happy and relaxed. With Remy safely at my bestie’s, I could help the boys with whatever adventure they needed help on. This was shaping up to be quite the eventful day.

 

 

The second we got back, the tension in the room was obvious. Dean and Sam were clearly not happy with my predilection for the King. Crowley stood behind me, running his fingers in my hair; I leaned into his caress. Dean cocked his gun, causing us to freeze. Apparently, Dean was taking his hatred for Crowley a step further.

 

 

“Dean no shooting in my house, especially not my favorite character or my soulmate. One, the neighbors will hear and I’m not explaining that shit and two, if you pull that trigger, I will kick your ass and throw you and Sam out to solve whatever it is by yourselves! No fighting of any kind. Now everyone, let’s go to the living room and have a chat.” No one moved so I rolled my eyes. “There’s a tape measure in the kitchen. You can all measure it or you can stow your crap and get on the freakin couch and we can talk?” Dean grumbled something that he had the good sense to grumble instead of say. He put his weapon away and huffed off to the living room.

 

 

Sam and Dean sat across from me while Crowley sat right by me, which was definitely a distraction. My mind kept going from hot guy to various sex positions. Crowley must have read my mind because he was giving me a fierce, “I will devour you” look that was so hot and intense. The promise hung in the air. Dean slapped his hand on the table to bring my attention back to him.

 

 

He glared at Crowley. “We need your help now and in the future. You’re vital to whatever is about to come so Castiel made us travel here for a day exactly. After that day, you will be in our world.”

 

 

“Hey, I’m always up for an adventure. Let’s do it. So I assume, judging by the serious looks there’s more?”

 

 

Sam continued,” Yes, there’s a scavenger hunt to find our way home. Castiel said without your help, we’d be stuck here. The clues are based on you and your life.”

 

 

“Cryptic. A scavenger hunt by whom? Who knows me this well?”

 

 

“No clue princess but the solving the scavenger hunt is the only way home so let's -.”

 

 

I snatched the paper from Dean’s hands. “I’m amazing at puzzles. It’ll be solved with time left over for dinner. But I need coffee and lots of it. I don’t think without coffee. And not just one cup either, so join me in the kitchen. I’ll be by my K-cup.”

 

 

I looked behind me to see Crowley watching me as my made my way to the coffee machine; Dean and Sam following us. I get it going and grab my favorite blend washing and putting my, “I’m bloody Crowley. I do what I want, when I want” mug, I got from redbubble, under the K-Cup machine.

 

 

Dean face palmed when he saw the cup. Sam just chuckled. I looked down at the paper in my hand. “Start at the beginning of their journey. Okay so this isn’t about me. This clue is about you boys. It doesn’t mean Crowley because it said “their.” Soooo, the beginning of your journey. It could mean the very start, meaning your house or the first motel room where you solved your first case. Considering that we’re in the real world, let’s hope it means hotel room because breaking into someone's house is not high on my to-do list. Stealing, running cons, having sex with hot villains sure but breaking and entering? Not so much.”

 

 

Crowley was about to snap but I held my hand up stopping him as I waited for my coffee. The second it was ready, I nodded at Crowley. I moaned at the delicious dark taste of it.

 

 

“You drink it black, Pet?”

 

 

“I love the bitter taste. I don’t have a giant sweet tooth and I’m a purist when it comes to taste.”

 

 

Crowley raised his eyebrow at that. We all arrived at the motel and took different corners of the room to search. “Okay, so let’s check this place. There’s gotta be something here.” I placed my coffee down reluctantly, desperately needing the warm, delicious liquid down my throat but this was more important which was saying quite a lot. I saw a pad and started shading it with the pencil. “No coded message or residue from someone else jotting something down.”

 

 

I started looking under the desk, in the drawer on the bed, in the bedcovers under the bed, finding nothing. Dean and Sam were going through the garbage and the other side of the room while Crowley was going through my fanfics. Finally I found something in the pillow cases inside the zippered cover. “Bingo boys.” Just at that moment, the hotel manager came in.

 

 

“Hello, wtf dude. Private party.”

 

 

“I’m the manager.”

 

 

“Okay well we paid-.”

 

 

“No you didn’t.”

 

 

I whirled around to glare at Dean, “OMG again. Seriously? Crowls is totally getting the wrong impression. I’m sorry, Daddy. I think we need to find others to join us, they’re delinquents. Let’s go.”

 

 

“WHAT?” Dean yelled.

 

 

“How much do we owe you?”

 

 

“Uh like 80 - a day.”

 

 

I walked closer to the manager, grabbing his tie and winding it around my fingers before I take the phone book out of the drawer and hit him on the head with it. “Note to all of us: work faster at each location.”

 

 

I waved off Dean’s worried look. “He’s fine. I write horror. Know how to kill and harm effectively. Otherwise, how could I write it?”

 

 

“That’s not creepy,” Dean said with a creeped out glare

 

 

“Never said it wasn’t.”

 

 

“That was interesting,” Crowley added

 

 

“We could have had Crowley -.”

 

 

“We don’t know where the next clue will lead. We have a day to figure this out and there are a lot of clues. We are not wasting time running long cons.” There a pause and a tense silence before I broke it with clue number 2. “Okay, the paper here mentions a bar...by the number it’d say it’s across the street or close by, at any rate. It’s instructing me to go into the bar and order a Screwdriver, one of my favorite drinks.”

 

 

“Teleport us to the bar, if you will.” I gracefully extend my left hand to Crowley, my right hand clutching my coffee cup.

 

 

Dean held the bar door open for everyone. I proceeded to fall right into Dean’s firm chest. He caught me and looked down at me, smirking. “What? I never said I wasn’t a klutz. You can be awesome and klutzy at the same time.”

 

 

“What did you trip on, sweetheart?”

 

 

“Myself,” I said sheepishly.

 

 

“You’re wearing sneakers.”

 

 

“That’s exactly why I wear sneakers. Being a klutz already from the get-go spells doom, let’s not add heels into the mix.”

 

 

Everyone chuckled. I glide into the bar like I owned the place. Was I overcompensating for falling or was I started to run a con? Maybe both, honestly. I walked up to the bar and leaned over the counter, showing the bartender my breasts. “I’d like a screwdriver please,” I said with a wink.

 

 

“Day drinking, you?” he asked confused.

 

 

“Screwdriver,“ I said slower and more firmly.

 

 

He raised his eyebrow and handed me a napkin. He looked to all of us. “Do you know who left this?” I asked tentatively.

 

 

He shook his head, “It was on the doorstep when I opened the bar with instructions. No name, no calling card. Sorry, hun.” Crowley and Dean gave him death stares at the fact that he called me “hun.” I smiled at their possessiveness or was it protectiveness?

 

 

I shrugged, “Longshot anyway.”

 

 

“What is this for?” The bartender inquired.

 

 

“A scavenger hunt. Totally competitive and I just wanted to see if this was a real clue or if a rival group is messing with me. I take my games seriously. You should see me play Monopoly.”

 

 

The bartender gawfed. I mumbled a, “thank you” and ran out of the bar towards the payphone.

 

 

“There’s a number here but it tells us to use this payphone. How many quarters does anyone have? I have none, I always put my coins into my gray skull piggy bank, so I’m out.”

 

 

Crowley shrugs rather dramatically. Sam and Dean empty their pockets and hand me some quarters. I put them in and dial the number. I heard a few clicks and then it asked me to put in enough change for three minutes which was basically all our quarters. Then it said, “The number you have dialed is not in service”. I hang up angrily, only for the phone to ring again. I didn’t even think about it, I just picked it up and listened. It wasn’t a recorded message this time, it was a man’s voice and he said one line. I hung up smiling. “I know where to go next,” I said triumphantly.

 

 

“What did he say?” Sam implored.

 

 

“I’m having an old friend for dinner. The whole phone setup. The clicks on the line, to the three minutes worth of quarters, to someone calling the payphone is all from the same movie. “Hannibal”. He’s directing us to Hannibal but since Hannibal doesn’t exist, I assume he means the restaurant he frequents in Florence, Italy. Give me one second and I’ll find it. I can find anything using Google.”

 

 

The boy’s raise their eyebrows while Crowley looks impressed.

 

 

“You really know your shit.”

 

 

“That I do, Dean. Take us to Rivoire Piazza della Signoria 5, Florence, Italy. I stood outside of the cafe and ran up to the hostess.

 

 

“Do you have a reservation,” she asked skeptically taking in our appearance.

 

 

I looked to the side, thinking for a moment. “My husband’s assistant set up one for my boyfriend and his family but I’m not sure what name she used - his ridiculous middle name or something else. She’s a bit of a scatterbrain.”

 

 

She flashed me an understanding look.

 

 

“Let’s try Hannibal. Don’t ask.” She looked at me like I sprouted three heads.

 

 

“Nothing by that name trust me. I would remember.”

 

 

“Hold on one moment.”

 

 

I walked over to the guys. “Okay nothing under Hannibal. Wait a minute. The call is in the movie. It’s an actual scene so that in itself must be a clue. So who made the call in the movie...It was Pazzi, Inspector Pazzi.” I rushed back and said “Pazzi.” Dean turned around and the hostess smiled back at him.

 

 

She handed me a note, which I accepted gratefully. “Happy to help you guys,“ she directed at Dean.

 

 

“We’re grateful,” Dean added. Dean and the hostess shared a longing look before he joined Sam and Crowley and I as we looked at the note.

 

 

“So I haven’t lost my charm. You’re not -.”

 

 

“Into Crowley. Yeppers. Sorry Dean-o.” I held up my arm, “Soulmates.”

 

 

Dean muttered, “fuck” and glared at Crowley.

 

 

“To go forward, you must go back. Rest your weary head. Beware of Cthulhu.”

 

 

Dean looks at it. “Go back where?”

 

 

“Where she sleeps,” Crowley stated.

 

 

“Exactly and look in the book ‘Cthulhu’ by H.P. Lovecraft.”

 

 

Crowley snaps in my coffee mug with more coffee. So like me to be so focused on the hunt, I leave my favorite mug behind. Smiling at Crowley, mug in hand, I looked around my room cursing the fact that I put off alphabetizing my books. I can’t find it.

 

 

“Wait a minute, every part of the clue is important right?”

 

 

“Yeah pretty much, sweetheart. Has been with the other clues. What do you have?” Dean inquired.

 

 

“It mentions my bed, right? Lay my weary head?” I moved quickly and threw my pillows off the bed. Low and behold, the book was under them. “So fucking creepy. Didn’t have that book under my bed before. Someone came in and placed it here.” I moved to the front door and checked the lock.

 

 

“Watched enough procedural cop shows to know how a break in locks. How do you get in without tampering with the lock? Must be a Supernatural someone. Creeeepy. Anyway we’re on the clock. Okay let’s do this.”

 

 

I opened “Cthulhu” and saw pages turned down. I groaned. “Damn it. That’s why they have bookmarks. Hate seeing this. What is this highschool?” I got to the page and saw highlighted text. “Damn it. Gonna have to buy a new one now!”

 

 

Dean raised his eyebrow, “What’s wrong with that one?”

 

 

“Aside from the fact that it’s been defaced?”

 

 

“I hate that too,” Sam confessed.

 

 

“Right!? Ugh,“ I added. I downed the rest of my coffee and then grabbed a pencil. I turned around and boom, there was more coffee. I looked up at Crowley. “Thanks, My King.”

 

 

“Careful, Pet. You start saying things like that and we’ll have to get better acquainted.”

 

 

“That a promise?”

 

 

I smirked up at him and quickly jotted down the words, “The Sphinx, Black Cat, Red Death.”

 

 

“Edgar Allen Poe,” Sam said.

 

 

“Definitely.”

 

 

Sam turned around and grabbed the complete work of Edgar Allen Poe. “The only one you have that features all of them.”

 

 

“Exactly.” I fist bumped Sam before opening the book to find a curious business card. It read, “Cooger & Dark’s Pandemonium Shadow Show.”

 

 

“That’s so familiar,” Sam confessed.

 

 

“It is. It’s one of my books.” I typed that into Google. I went through the results and I saw the word “carnival.” Yes, that sounded so familiar. Then I went through the searches for another minute and found the words, “Something Wicked This Way Comes.”

 

 

“Of course! One of my favorite books!” I looked into my Ray Bradbury section and pulled out, “Something Wicked This Way Comes.” I shook the book and a heavy metal safe made a thunk sound on the wooden floorboard. “Never saw that before.” I grabbed my coffee and started drinking it as I looked over the lock. It needs four numbers to unlock it.”

 

 

Sam looked near me and grabbed a note that had fallen to the ground, “It says three, four, better lock your doors.”

 

 

I smiled. “One, two Freddy’s coming for you. Three four, better lock your doors. I’ll stop myself from singing all of it. 4 numbers that relate to Nightmare on Elm Street. If it’s not an address, there are no numbers in the movie. I don’t think it would be 1234 so let’s try 1482.” Dean gave you a look. Rolling your eyes I said, “I couldn’t answer what Nancy’s house number was at the horror film festival a while back and it’s my favorite movie. I was so mad and some jerk won the shirt instead of me. So I memorized the number and boned up on my horror trivia so that wouldn’t happen again.”

 

 

“It sure paid off now,” Sam confessed.

 

 

“Definitely did,” Dean added.

 

 

I typed in the number and the box opened to provide a key that said, “Property of the Stanley Hotel.” I smiled.

 

 

Crowley poofed us into the Stanley Hotel, Room 217 - the very room Stephen King stayed in when he wrote “The Shining.” The clever King of Hell read my mind, not needing to ask which room. “Okay the last clue. We gotta hurry. Looks like someone booked this room.” We were so close, we could taste it; we just had to find the last piece. We tore the room apart not finding said item. The last place left to look was the desk. Just as I ran to rifle through it, we heard a key being pressed into a door. “Housekeeping. Water leak. Twenty minutes. Sorry for the inconvenience. Go to the bar and order a drink on us.” The couple argues outside the door.

 

 

I whispered, “Make it look like a real leak, Crowley.”

 

 

“As you wish,“ he smirked.

 

 

“The second the couple saw water leaking out from under the door slowly drifting into the hallway, they ran into the elevator. We all froze in place waiting for the tell-tale sounds of an elevator leaving. The second the coast was clear, Crowley snapped his fingers and made the room clean again.

 

 

“Not my taste, bit too theatrical for me but it did the job, Pet.”

 

 

“Thank you my King,” I said with a bow.

 

 

“You have a real knack for lying.”

 

 

“Running cons,” I added clarifying Sam’s statement.

 

 

“Ever thought about hunting?” Dean asked.

 

 

“Well in my world, you’re tv show characters. I mean maybe...but I think I’d be more happy researching, getting your butts out of trouble and coming up with a plan of attack, rather than kicking ass. But trust me, if I gotta kick ass, I can kick ass. I’m just more comfy behind the scenes, away from the danger. Getting intel safely, running small short cons, pulling all-nighters in the library, all awesome but actual hand to hand combat not so much. Your hunts usually end with broken ribs, internal bleeding and crude stitching from dental floss. Doesn't sound fun. No to mention unlike hunters my first line of defense is my mouth not my fist.” Crowley and Dean both smirked at my response.

 

 

I turned back to the desk, opening the drawer and found nothing. I ran my hand under the bottom and felt paper. I tried pulling it but it seemed to be glued. I bent down and read the underside of the table. “It’s a name tag that says, “Two-faced.“ Not a comic book reference. That would be two-face not faced. One of my favs “Steel Trap” has a name tag with two-faced on it but it’s not with the name Alessa. That’s a very unique spelling of Alyssa. That spelling is from Silent Hill. Two-faced must be a clue once we get to the final location. Makes no sense now. Okay so Silent Hill...it must be the town the legend is based off of. Oh shit. I just looked that up like two weeks ago.”

 

 

There is banging on the other side of the door, apparently they found out the con. I made a creepy breathing noise and started turning the lights on and off. Dean glared at me. “What? Just selling it. They came to the room expecting a ghost. Here I am.” I threw a pen at Dean. “Write something ghostly will you?”

 

 

Crowley held the couple back using his powers.

 

 

“Can you Google any faster?” Dean groaned.

 

 

“Did you two numbskulls get any of the clues?” Crowley growled.

 

 

“Sam got one of them.”

 

 

“My point exactly; let the genius work.”

 

 

“Now that’s a compliment. You could learn something, Dean. Got it. Centralia, Pennsylvania.”

 

 

Crowley smirked and teleported us there just as the couple finally got into their room and read, “We’re here,” on the wall

 

 

Crowley looked around the second we got to Centralia, Pennsylvania, “Rather dismal, no, Pet?”

 

 

I smirked at him. “It’s a ghost town. Perfect setting for Silent hill. This is the town that inspired it all. There was a terrible fire, much like the movie.”

 

 

“Your horror geekiness is so sexy,” Dean added.

 

 

Crowley growled and glared at Dean.

 

 

“Confusing your pistols with your privates?” At the confused look on both of their faces, I rolled my eyes.“That is one of the only movies I have seen enough times that I memorized every one of Catwoman's lines. I very rarely shot out quotes or memorize lines, “Batman Returns” is the exception. That should tell you boys something.”

 

 

“We already know you’re a tigress.”

 

 

“Catch on quick; then again, you are the King,“ I stated with a huge smile on my face. I ignored the gagging sounds from Dean. I twirled around, imagining the ashes that fell like snow in the movie. I was here in the origin of one of my favs. I ignored everyone's confusion and twirled until I could twirl no more. I felt a little dizzy and tripped over a rock, Crowley’s arms being the only things that kept me from face planting.

 

 

“From bad ass geek to klutz in under five.”

 

 

I burst out laughing. “Yep, sounds like me.” Funnily enough, I tripped over the very building that had the answers. “Hey look guys: that statue, it has a mask with two faces and it’s called, “Two-faced blah blah doesn’t matter.” That’s the place.”

 

 

Sam smirked at my glossing over. Dean ran in front of me, “I got this.“

 

 

“Oh puhlease, we’re not doing the macho thing. I’m smarter than you are. Really?”

 

 

“Obviously but you’re a civilian. Can’t have you getting hurt, sweetheart.”

 

 

“And what if you get hurt?”

 

 

Dean gave you a wounded expression.

 

 

“I forget sometimes that you have a large ego.”

 

 

Dean wiggled his eyebrows at that statement

 

 

I snorted. He went in guns blazing but no one was there. It was just an abandoned movie theater with “Supernatural” playing. Dean knew that in this world, he and Sam were characters but he couldn’t shake the amount of creepy he felt watching some lookalike play him. We all walked up to the screen and a portal opened up. It started out at the right hand side and got bigger and bigger, sucking in most of the screen. It was like a funnel for a tornado.

 

 

“Crowley could you do me a favor. I’ll make it worth your -.”

 

 

“No need to cheapen the sentiment. I like you Pet and when we all get back to my world, I will show you just how much. You are my soulmate after all. What do you need?”

 

 

“Can you bring my bestie and my dog here? Not leaving without them.”

 

 

Crowley smiled and in seconds there they are.

 

 

“Quick question, since I have no idea how long this portal will stay open. If you could not only go into but stay in the Supernatural world with Rowena, Dean, Sam, Crowley, etc would you?”

 

 

“Who wouldn’t?” my bestie answered back.

 

 

Smiling, I pet Remy and picked him up into my arms. He was going crazy, excited that not only was I back but there were so many people here. He started making a racket, jumping and barking trying to nibble everyone’s fingers. I took my bestie’s hand and we walked into the screen of the movie theater, the boys close behind us. We ended up into the middle of a crossroads, a diner to our left. That seemed fitting somehow.

 

 

“Come on guys after a full day of cryptic clues, I need some food. Strangely enough the diner even has a section to sit outside.”

 

 

“It’s owned by demons,” Crowley offered.

 

 

“Meaning run? It’s all poisoned?”

 

 

“I love the macabre way you think but no, meaning we cater to everyone. It’s right next to a crossroads. Have a little food, make a little deal. Why not let pets in as well?”

 

 

“How accommodating,“ I said with a smirk.

 

 

“We try our best.”

 

 

Remy was freaking out, squirming in my arms to be placed on the ground so he could nibble everyone.

 

 

Crowley snapped his fingers and Remy quieted down.

 

 

“What the fuck did you do to my dog?”

 

 

“Language dear! Is that any way for a Queen to speak? I assure you, Remy is fine. I just thought it would be best if he calmed down so I simply assisted him in doing so.”

 

 

“Thank you,” I said a bit hesitantly. Rolling his eyes, Crowley made Remy’s favorite dish appear. I smiled down at the pupper who was wagging his tail, happily chowing down.

 

 

The demonic waitress paused when she saw who was the table.

 

 

“The Winchesters and -.”

 

 

Crowley chose that moment to grab my face and kiss me passionately. “My future Queen,” he answered as he withdrew his lips from mine. I could feel a slight tingle on my lips from his kiss. I desperately craved more contact.

 

 

“Patience dear. Such delicious little thoughts in your head,” he whispered. Addressing the waitress he added, “Now they’re going to order. I assume you’ll give my Queen the very best?”

 

 

I saw a million expressions pass over the waitress’s face: jealousy, anger, fear, confusion, etc but in the end, she smiled an almost genuine smile and handed us menus.

 

 

When I woke up today that day, years ago now, I never thought that was how the day would turn out but I thank Chuck that I got sucked into this world. That I had a chance to really know Sam and Dean and Crowley. That was how I became a staple in the lives of the Winchesters along with my best friend, my dog and my King.

 

 

Crowley and I came back to this very diner to celebrate our 1 year anniversary. It became our place and then the place that we eventually took our children to.

 

This my dear reader, is how the fanfic writer, Lexie Carver, became the Queen of Hell.


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